


What We Can't Have

by FangQueen



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Blow Job, Episode AU: s07e14 Raisins, F/M, Gay Character/Straight? Character, Groping, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Unrequited Love, Wendy Bashing, dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7724131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/pseuds/FangQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete tasted like a mixture of that shit beer and the clove cigarette he’d just finished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me, I finally wrote an SP fic! Of course, I’ve loved the show for years and years, but I hadn’t gotten into the whole shipping side of the fandom till recently...I’m glad I did, though, because this was really fun to write. You all can definitely expect more from me in the future.

“Dude, get off me.”

Oh yes, he was sure he sounded very convincing, what with how he made no attempts whatsoever to actually stop those lips from contacting his neck. The other boy only responded by pressing his body along his even more, slipping a thigh between his legs and trapping him against the brick wall behind him. As he started sucking on the flesh at his Adam’s apple, Stan was left wondering why he’d allowed it to get to this.

Truth be told, there’d been tension between them since he’d started hanging out with this group. Wasn’t his fault Pete was attracted to him, though, and he thought he’d made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested. Apparently not, considering that, when they’d found themselves abandoned by the other three, the kid hadn’t wasted any time in initiating. He should’ve known better. He should’ve gone home when Henrietta and them had, too, but now here he was, shoved up against the back wall of a public restroom, getting hickies from a goth kid he wouldn’t have even given the time of day to a couple weeks ago. He didn’t know what could’ve possibly made Pete think this would work on him. Hell, he’d come to them in the first place because he was heartbroken over a _girl_. But one second, they’d been finishing off a six-pack of grossly-warm PBR that Pete had swiped from his parents; next, he was leaning in for a kiss, and Stan was too surprised to do anything but reciprocate.

Pete bit down on the space just above his collarbone, and Stan shocked the hell out of himself by actually _mewling_. The bastard knew it, too; he could feel him smirking as he licked a stripe up behind his ear. Finally, Stan mustered the wherewithal to grip the red-haired kid’s shoulders and push him an arm’s length away. “Seriously, I said get the fuck off!”

Pete simply stared back at him, looking too amused for his own good. Then he glanced downwards briefly, nodding his head towards the obvious bulge that had formed in Stan’s jeans. “You sure you want me to?”

He had a point there. Much as he didn’t like it, he had to admit, he was more than a little curious as to where this might lead if he let him continue. It was more action than he’d gotten from Wendy, that was for sure. (Bitch was too busy giving it to his own fucking friends to do anything for him, apparently.) More action than he’d gotten in his life thus far, if he was really being honest. And it wasn’t like he’d never, well...considered it. Trying out something _different_. Everybody had, he was sure! Plus, no one would know; the park was deserted at this time of night, save for other teenagers doing much the same thing and wanting to get caught just as little as they did. No one could see them back here, either. Also, the boy opposite him didn’t seem the type to kiss and tell; not with how reserved he was the rest of the time. So when Pete took advantaged of his relaxing hold and shifted forward again to teasingly brush their noses together, Stan let him do it.

Pete tasted like a mixture of that shit beer and the clove cigarette he’d just finished. The kiss deepened as the boy reached up to gently remove his puff-ball hat so that he could entangle his fingers in his mop of dark hair. Stan wasn’t gay. Really, he wasn’t. Although, any trace of that idea had flown right out the window when he found himself acknowledging that making out with him wasn’t really all that bad...And he was beginning to realize that he hadn’t necessarily been as straightforward about his supposed disinterest as he should’ve been. Since that first day, Pete had glommed onto him--in his kind of monotone, almost begrudging way, but there was always a glimmer of something else beneath that. Whenever Stan had been complaining about Wendy the Whore and the many ways she continued to ruin his life, Pete had made a series of remarks that, in hindsight, were so obvious. Comments like: “Girls are more trouble than they’re worth. You don’t need them.” And Stan, idiot as he was, just laughed and agreed, not taking into context what the boy might’ve been implying.

As their tongues fought for dominance, Stan lowered his hands to latch onto Pete’s hips, pulling him closer. This time, it was the goth boy’s turn to whimper, the sound vibrating between their entwined mouths when his equally enthusiastic dick rubbed against his companion’s through their clothes. That suddenly made it all too real--jarringly so--for his pelvis to cant forward, only to be met with a familiar rigidness. Stan had forgotten himself for a moment, but was forcibly shocked back to the reality of the situation: this was a _guy_. A seemingly very talented one, but a guy nonetheless. And despite what she’d done to him, he _did_ want Wendy back, didn’t he? What would happen if she ever did catch wind that, while he’d been expected to be wallowing in his sorrows over losing her to Token, he’d instead went and had a one-off with some dude? He turned out of the kiss, trying to convince his hormones that this wasn’t the best decision he’d ever made, and Pete reverted back to biting his throat, slipping a hand between them to cup Stan through his pants. As he did so, Stan couldn’t help but moan, thinking to himself that the kid was actually pretty good at this. He was getting the sneaking suspicion that he was only _inexperienced_ one here.

“I don’t think we--” Stan cut himself off with a groan when Pete fisted his length as best he could through the coarse fabric and tugged. He almost gave in right then, but he forced himself to focus enough to try again: “I don’t think we should do this.”

He honestly thought Pete was ignoring him for a bit there, but then the boy shifted so that they were at eye level once more and said quietly, “But don’t you want me?” He punctuated the statement with another dexterous stroke that had Stan momentarily squeezing his eyes tight in order to prevent himself from turning to mush.

“I...I don’t know, man. I mean, like, this is…” _Out of nowhere_. _Weird, because I’m not into dudes_. Either would’ve accurately described what he was feeling. Instead, for some reason, a thought occurred to him, and he crinkled his brow and concluded, “Shouldn’t you be asking Michael that, anyway?”

Everything came crashing to a halt. Pete leaned slightly away from him, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “What?”

C’mon, did he really think Stan hadn’t seen him? All those glances he probably thought were _so_ covert. Shit, he flirted with Michael more than he had been Stan this whole time, and that was saying something. “I mean, I thought he was your boyfriend, or--”

“ _He’s not my boyfriend_.”

Well. _That_ certainly struck a nerve. A raw one, by the looks of it, if the way he practically shoved himself off of Stan as he said it was any clue. He actually felt a little bad for the kid; he’d half meant it as a joke, to tease him for how he seemed to fawn over his earringed best friend all the time. After the way he’d been acting tonight, he’d expected him to laugh it off. What he hadn’t expected was to see the pain in Pete’s eyes that he was showing him now. Fuck. He had to say something, something to distract him from that.

“Look, forget that, I’m just...I mean, I’m not, you know, gay, or whatever. So we shouldn’t do this. Okay?” No answer came. Stan mustered a bit more courage and added, “And if that’s not okay, then...I don’t know that I can keep hanging out with you guys. You know? Like, this is just, it’s weird, okay?”

Pete snorted. A beat. Then: “Okay.”

“...Yeah?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

Stan wasn’t sure that he really did; all he knew was that Pete was watching him as if he was deciding whether he was going to punch him or kiss him again. He opened his mouth as if to apologize and was immediately bowled over.

“So, ‘Raven,’ in that case” Stan grimaced at both the stupid nickname and the mocking tone in Pete’s voice, “you gonna go back to your conformist friends, then? Back to spending your days crying like a pussy and ogling tits at that dumb restaurant?” When Stan did nothing but shuffle uncomfortably and look away, Pete scowled and flicked his fringe in annoyance, before finally turning and stalking off with a gruff: “Fuck you. Do whatever you want, then.”

As he walked away, he tossed Stan’s hat over his shoulder, leaving the teen scrambling to scoop it up off the icy grass and pull it back on. Stan, still hard and frustrated and confused, watched him hop the low fence out of the park and continue towards home, wondering why it was that he somehow felt emptier now than before they’d started.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been over a month. Christmas and New Year’s had come and gone. When they had all returned to school after winter break, Stan had half expected everything to have blown over. The glare Pete gave him when they passed in the hall and he attempted to wave nonchalantly to him was a _big_ clue that that was not the case. Sure, prior to the whole situation, they hadn’t been friends--or even acquaintances, at that. Still, they’d spent a few weeks together during that time, Stan had shared quite a lot about himself with him, they’d _made out_ , for Christ’s sake. That had to mean _something_ , right?

He honestly didn’t even know why he cared if it did or not, except...Wendy and he were really done. Like, done done. Not that he’d had any inkling otherwise from her end, but it also had more to due with the fact that he simply wasn’t interested anymore. Which was weird for him. Even Cartman, of all people, had mentioned it just the other day, that he was surprised how, ever since he’d come back from his foray into gothdom, Stan hadn’t had a single thing to say about her, or Token, or any of it. What’s more, he’d found himself… _noticing things_ about the other boys around him. Things that he’d, admittedly, questioned _before_ the incident, but that he’d never allowed himself to consider for long. Things that he’d rather not repeat aloud, but that nearly killed him on several occasions by loss of blood flow to any area of his body that _wasn’t_ dick-related. He’d beat off to the memory of Pete’s hand on his crotch more times than he’d care to count. And, above all, he just couldn’t stop thinking about him.

So it was that he found himself that Friday of their first week back, lingering over getting his belongings together in algebra to ensure he would be alone when he left, then heading around to the loading dock behind the school, where he knew he’d find his target. The goth was sitting on the small porch there, shivering in the absolutely killer wind that was whipping over the mostly-melted snow from their last storm. He had a black cigarette in one hand and was fishing what appeared to be a forty in a brown, paper bag out of his backpack with the other. What Stan was most surprised to see was that he, too, was alone…

As Stan approached him, Pete glanced up through his bangs, slowly exhaling his drag before he said without an ounce of patience, “What the fuck do you want?”

It was a good question, he’d give him that. He realized in that moment that he hadn’t taken the time to plan out what he was going to say. It ended up being the first thing that came to mind: “A drink of that would be great.”

Pete, having uncapped the bottle, stilled his hand halfway to his mouth and quirked an eyebrow. Then he took a large gulp before leaning upwards slightly to hand it off to him. Stan interpreted that as a sign that he’d at least hear him out and settled down on the concrete slab next to him as he drank. Tasted about as shitty as what they’d had the last time he’d been drinking with this kid, but he’d take what he could get in this instance. They passed the bottle back and forth for a few minutes before Stan actually spoke up:

“Where’s the rest?”

“They just, you know, had other shit to do.”

“Bullshit.” The red-haired boy chewed on his bottom lip and refused to meet his gaze. Stan’s intuition was buzzing, so he pressed on, “Did something happen?”

“Don’t know why it’s any of your business.”

“C’mon, man, after all the bitching I did about Wendy? You can tell me.”

“Fuck,” he sighed quietly, flicking the spent butt of his cigarette away and taking another drink. He grimaced as he swallowed, then said, “I kinda got into it with Michael.”

“...Yeah? What about?”

“What do you think?”

A couple things came to mind initially, but his tone betrayed the truth. “You told him? That you…?”

“Well, I hinted at it. He figured it out pretty easily after that.”

Stan gave him a second longer to elaborate as Pete busied himself with running his thumb along the rim of the bottle. When he didn’t continue, he asked, “And what did he say?”

“He swore he didn’t see me like that. I admit, I got pretty pissed off at him for it. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d gone up to him and said ‘Hey, wanna fuck?’ or whatever. I just told him I was...yeah, and that I thought he was hot. He wasn’t cool with that, said he didn’t mind if I was into dudes and shit, but that I was like a brother to him. We argued--I don’t fucking know why at this point. He got upset and decided to go pick up Firkle from the junior high, and Henrietta went with him. Anyway, I don’t know what, or _who_ , he’s into, but it certainly isn’t me, so that’s that, I guess…”

Stan hesitated a moment, then reached out to place his hand on Pete’s shoulder. The goth bristled, but didn’t shy away. He wouldn’t have expected Pete to cry--he just didn’t seem the type. But his voice had cracked at the end of his explanation, making clear just how hurt he actually was.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s not like I’d expected anything to come out of it.”

“Still sucks. You should be proud that you actually said something, though.”

“Fuck you.” There wasn’t a great deal of malice behind the phrase, but he did choose to shrug him off just then.

“What? I’m serious.”

“Yeah, and you’ve rejected me, too, you know.”

His shunned hand ended up on the back of his neck, rubbing anxiously as he recalled exactly why he’d started this conversation to begin with. “Yeah...about that…” Pete was looking at him now, in that piercing way he had on that day, and Stan could feel the blush creeping into his cheeks. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to get out everything he wanted to say without doing so in a rush. “Look, I...I shouldn’t have done that. Rejected you like that. I was...confused. I’d never been with a guy before, not at all. I was still so focused on Wendy and shit, I don’t think I knew at the time how to respond to anyone else coming onto me, you know? Let alone a guy. I mean, I guess, looking back on it now, I should’ve seen the signals you’d been throwing me, but I just didn’t, so when you kissed me all of a sudden like that...I don’t know. I was just confused. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if whatever you were offering me was even what I really wanted. But...now I do. Know. You know? So...I know this is probably the worst time to ask, and I’m sorry about that, but if you want to, I’d kinda like to try again?”

Pete studied his face for a beat, then screwed the top back on the bottle before dumping it into his backpack. Stan wasn’t positive if that was an affirmative or negative response, until suddenly the boy was leaning in, stopping just before their lips touched.

“Promise you won’t push me away this time?”

“Promise.”

It was just as Stan had remembered, minus the internal crisis. In fact, he was the first one to add tongue this time around, and it earned him a sexy little moan from his counterpart that shot straight to his groin. He wondered how long they’d stayed there, kissing like they were in heat. By the time they came up for air, they were practically in each other’s laps. The only reason they’d even paused was because they heard a group coming around the far corner. Gathering their bags, they took off at a light jog before whoever it was could catch up to them.

Once at the exit to the nearby parking lot, Pete turned up one side of his mouth in a small smirk and waved as if he was going to leave, but Stan gripped his hand. “Wanna continue this somewhere else?”

“Really?” He looked genuinely shocked even at being asked. “Of course. Where, though?”

“Your place?”

“I live in a tiny ass trailer, dude. I don’t think we’re gonna be able to keep it much of a secret there.”

“Uh, well...Could go to my place, I guess. Just have to dodge my mom is all, but that’s not hard.”

They walked to his house in silence, but--Stan noted--they hadn’t managed to let go of each other’s hand till they arrived. As soon as he’d shut the front door behind them, he heard his mom call out from the kitchen. When she came through the archway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she seemed confused as to who was with him. He didn’t blame her. Even during the short time he’d spent in the “goth kids” group, he hadn’t ever invited any of them over.

“Hi, honey. Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, hey, mom. This is Pete.”

“Hi.”

Mrs. Marsh glanced between them curiously. “I thought you were staying over at Kyle’s tonight?”

Shit. That was right. He’d completely forgotten. He’d wondered why his best friend seemed so unsure of why he was staying behind after last period. “Uh...yeeaahh, umm, I still am. I’m just going over a little later. Pete and I will be in my room playing Xbox, okay?” Then he was taking the stairs two at a time before she could stall them any further--or get close enough to smell the beer on their breath.

In his room, he closed and locked the door, knowing full well his mom wouldn’t come to check as to why if it was another dude in there with him. Tossing his backpack onto his computer chair, he withdrew his cell from his pocket and swiped it open. Only one text from the redhead thus far, asking what the plan was for the night. He had time still. As he set the phone, along with his wallet, on his desk, he caught Pete watching him apprehensively out of the corner of his eye. He looked nervous as hell. Stan gestured for him to sit on the bed, get comfortable, and Pete obeyed, if only after a slight hesitation.

“Do you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m sorry, I totally fucking forgot about that. But no, not right away, we’re good.”

They each toed off their sneakers as he closed in on him, and their lips met with just as much vigor as they’d left back at the school. Pete laid flat on his back, pulling Stan along with him, until he was nestled between his legs and grinding down on him in earnest. The goth arched in order add to the friction, and they both panted into each other’s mouths as they scrambled to unbutton their jeans. It was as if they’d decided they had toyed with each other enough, and now they weren’t going to waste any time. As soon as his fly was down, Pete had Stan’s dick in his hand and was pumping like his life depended on it. The black-haired boy followed suit, kissing him again in an attempt to stifle the noises they were both making. The boys huffed together relatively quietly as they stroked each other towards a quick climax. It was, in fact, Pete who came first, biting the edge of his free palm to keep from crying out as he did so, while Stan tried to help him push his shirt up so he wouldn't get anything on it. Once semi-composed, he slid down Stan’s body till the teen was straddling his face and wrapped his lips around his length. As if he hadn’t been right on the edge already...He emptied his load into his companion’s throat the second his tongue swirled around the head and collapsed onto his side next to him as soon as he could manage to think about moving again.

They lay there, looking at each other expectantly and running their hands over whatever they could reach, neither bothering to put their dick back in their pants, till Stan finally cleared his throat and said, “You’re good at that.”

Pete chuckled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Sorry we didn’t...you know…”

“It’s okay. I don’t know that I was ready for that yet, to be honest.”

Stan smiled at that. If how Pete was blushing as he said it told him anything, it was that he’d been wrong to think that he was the only inexperienced one among them. The kid must’ve just been born with it or something. He was suddenly ten times more appreciative that he’d actually swallowed.

“So...Xbox?”

Pete grinned and rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

They played Call of Duty for a bit, just as if they were two buddies hanging out, nothing gay involved. It was so different from Stan’s experience with girls--what little of it there was--but he decided he preferred this. After they’d cleaned themselves up, he’d texted Kyle that he’d be over around six, and when he and Pete had walked to where they had to separate, they looked at each other like they wanted to kiss goodbye, but thought better of it when a car passed. Stan wasn't sure if that kind of thing would ever happen between them again, but he secretly hoped.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments = <3!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://ohlookagaydraco.tumblr.com/) and [LJ](http://fangqueen.livejournal.com/) as well!


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